


Olfactory Memory

by FreshBrains



Series: Femslash 100 Drabble tag 5: Orphan Black [25]
Category: Orphan Black (TV)
Genre: Community: femslash100, F/F, Minor Violence, Past Relationship(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-04
Updated: 2014-07-04
Packaged: 2018-02-07 10:50:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 250
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1896276
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FreshBrains/pseuds/FreshBrains
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“You don’t get to talk about Beth.  Don’t <i>ever</i> talk to me about Beth.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Olfactory Memory

**Author's Note:**

> For the femslash100 drabble tag 5 prompt: Alison/Angie - cop.

“I don’t much like cops,” Alison hissed, slamming the side door of the mini-van closed.  “Especially ones who want to go after my sisters.”

Angie raised an eyebrow, unfazed by Alison’s temper.  “That’s funny, actually.  I have on good authority that you were close with one particular cop.”

Alison bristled, hand wandering to her throat like she was taking her pulse, making sure she was still in control.  “Excuse me?”

Angie leaned in, close enough to catch a scent of Alison’s expensive perfume, and it almost knocked her over—it was a familiar smell.  It was a smell Beth use to carry around with her on night shifts or early coffee runs, before she had the time to shower.  Angie figured she was hooking up with some girl who didn’t want to get into police business, but she’d never guess it was this uptight soccer-mom _twin_.  “You were fucking Beth.”

Alison’s slap rang loud and neat in the parking lot.  Alison’s eyes were wide and manic, but there was something beneath it, a sort of _interest_ , the kind of interest that comes when you’ve realized you’ve met your match, your equal.  She grabbed Angie by the lapel of her jacket, pulling her in.  “You don’t get to talk about Beth.  Don’t _ever_ talk to me about Beth.”  She turned and got into her van, peeling out of the lot.

“If you insist,” Angie muttered, rubbing her jaw.  She knew there would be many more conversations to come with Alison Hendrix.


End file.
